


No Father for the Bride

by littlemisscurious



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Family, One Shot, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Tom Hiddleston] Sometimes pleasing your parents is not what life's about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Father for the Bride

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Hiddleston, neither have I met him before or know how he is really like. The character of Sophie derives entirely from my imagination and any similarity to living persons is purely incidental.

No Father for the Bride

 

“Will he be there?” His soft eyes, which the early winter sun made appear a crisp aquamarine, looked at her carefully. He knew it was a delicate topic and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her with an inconsiderate question. Slowly she shook her head, lowering her eyes to the dark grey gravel beneath her feet. “I think it's better that way.”, she whispered barely audible and slid her hands into the pockets of her navy blue trench coat, where she fiddled with a long forgotten paper tissue, that was already falling into pieces. A soft breeze rustled through the few remaining leaves on the side of the path and made them dance in small circles across the ground until they came to rest again near their feet. “I'm sorry!” Carefully he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her closer, resting his cheek against the side of her forehead before kissing it tenderly. With his slender 6ft 2 frame he was significantly taller than her, even though she had decided to wear heels that day, but neither of them cared. “Don't be.”, she mumbled and looked up, causing her auburn curls to fall from her shoulders onto her back, inviting the soft breeze to play with strands of her hair now instead of the leaves on the ground. “He's not worth it. Never was and never will be.”, she proceeded a little more confident now, but his eyes didn't seem convinced yet. “I am sick of trying, Tom. I am sick of fighting for his recognition, for his attention and love. It's about time to accept now that he will never love me, never see me as his daughter. Because I'm not.” A single tear rolled out of her right eye but before it could even reach the corner of her carmine-coloured lips he had already wiped it away with his thumb, resting his elegant hand on her cheek, caressing her soft skin. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated for a second, looking for the right words. “I know that it wouldn't be the same but...I'm sure my father would gladly lead you down the aisle.” He looked at her tenderly and was glad to see a tiny smile appear on her full, luscious lips. “That is very sweet of you and of him but I think Paul has already set his eyes on that task and you know I can't refuse him the honour of giving away his 'little' sister.”, she replied apologetically and ran her hands along his sides before she put her arms around his waist and snuggled up to him. He smiled at her affectionately while his thumb slowly caressed her cold, rosy cheek. “As long as you end up next to me at the altar I’m fine with either option.”, he mumbled smirking before leaning in to kiss her lovingly.

 

“Sophie? Can I come in?” A knock on her bedroom door announced the arrival of her twin brother Paul whose head appeared just seconds later in the doorway. “Sure you can.”, she replied smiling and placed her owl bookmark between the pages of her copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream before she looked at him. His tall athletic frame filled out pretty much the whole door frame before he actually entered the room and sat down at the end of her four-poster bed. For a moment he just looked around as if he saw this room for the first time, even though he’d been in here a hundred times already. His firm hands rested on his thighs before tracing the stitched on pattern of her bed cover. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to reveal the reason for his visit, would he normally have spent the evening down at the pub with his mates from the cricket team. His eyes had the colour of dark rich chocolate in the dimmed light of her bedside lamp and his olive skin glowed golden, which, in combination with his golden blond hair, made him appear like a majestic norse god. She had to smile and just barely resisted the temptation to ruffle through his locks. “Have I got something in my face?”, he asked her teasingly and with a chuckle. “Well...you’ve got a nose, a mouth, two eyes...the usual.”, she grinned and put her book down on her bedside table before tucking her feet under the blanket. He pretended to let out a relieved sigh before his face turned a tad more serious. “About the wedding...and ‘dad’...are you sure you are alright with...well, with how it turned out?” His concerned eyes rested on her, took in every flutter, every twitch. Shortly but lovingly she looked at the unobtrusive but beautiful engagement ring on her left ring finger before looking up to her brother. “Yes, I am. You know Paul, I’ve been fighting for his appreciation, his acceptance and love all my life and I am sick of it. I am sick of waking up every morning believing I’m worthless and that I haven’t achieved a thing in my life, because I have. I can be proud and Tom has helped me to realise that. He has helped me to realize who I really am and that I will be fine even without my...father.” She paused, looking for the right words. “And to be honest, I rather live a life without him, being happy and content, than having his disapprovement looming over me every minute of every day. So yes, I’m alright with how things have turned out and I cannot wait to walk down that aisle with my beloved brother on my side.” Carefully she took his big, strong hand into her slender and almost fragile looking one while she looked at him lovingly. He seemed relieved and a little more relaxed. “I can’t wait to lead you to the altar. And I couldn’t imagine anyone better for you than Tom.” Carefully he pulled her into a heartfelt embrace before planting a kiss on her hair. “Thank you.”, she whispered happily and returned the gesture by kissing him lightly on the cheek.

 

“Could you please relax a little and sit down or at least stop running around, Tom? You’re driving me mad!” Sighing his older sister Sarah looked at Tom, who was pacing through the room for about twenty minutes already and just stopped when his sister asked him to. They were waiting for the car which was to pick them up and bring them to church and while checking his suit and bowtie for the upteenth time in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room next to the arched window, he was worried that he might be late. He was never late, he hated it and Sophie was probably the only person he could forgive for being late, which even his family found astounding still. But especially today out of all days he did not want to be late. He wanted to be there first, he wanted to wait for her at the altar, he wanted to look at her while she walked down the aisle with her twin brother on her side, who had become like a brother to him as well during the last years. “Don’t worry, Thomas, we’ll be there on time. It’s still early.” His mother looked at his reflection in the mirror and led her hand glide carefully over the dark, black fabric of his three-piece suite. “You look fantastic.”, she added almost inaudibly and looked at him proudly, wherefore he turned and looked at her directly. “Thanks Mum.”, he replied smiling almost shyly and for a short second he saw her little son again, whose twinkling eyes were always so full of mischief and interest. And here he stood, 33 years old, a lot taller than his younger self, and only minutes away from marrying the love of his life. Time went by way too fast.  
The sound of the car horn interrupted her thoughts and Tom nervously looked into the mirror one last time before following the signal out of the house into the bright and clear winter sun. The air was crisp and cold and it had been frosty over night which made everything outside twinkle and shimmer as if millions of diamonds were sprinkled over everything. They all got into the car before finally making their way to the small, old country church in Hamilton, that Tom and Sophie had chosen for their big day. It wasn’t far away from Greenock, where his father was from, and relatively close to Sophie’s grandmother’s care home in Glasgow, allowing her, despite her high age and bad health, to attend her granddaughter’s wedding. 

 

About half an hour later he stood in front of the altar. She’d be there soon, they said. He was nervous, his tie felt too tight, his suit too hot and even Benedict’s reassuring smile couldn’t make him feel more relaxed. They’ve come so close. He just wanted the church door to open and the music to start playing. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath when he heard it. The promising creak of the old church doors, the whining of the hinges, the shuffling of the other guests as they stood up in honour of the arriving bride. His best man and acting colleague for many years gave Tom’s arm an encouraging squeeze before he turned towards the door. Ignoring his racing heartbeat, Tom followed suit and caught his breath. There she was, standing in the grand old doorway of the church looking more angelic than ever. Her long, thick, auburn curls fell over her bare shoulders, elegant white lace covered her arms and décolleté, and her beautiful face with those big and attentive bronze eyes was covered in the most delicate veil he could have imagined. She looked like a princess and as she slowly floated towards him, he couldn’t prevent shedding a tear of joy. 

 

“...I hereby pronounce you husband and wife....You may kiss the bride.” With these words the priest ended his blessings and Tom and Sophie turned to each other, both with the happiest looks on their faces. Carefully he placed his hand on her cheek, pulled her tenderly towards him, and kissed his beautiful bride. It was only her and him, him and her, and nobody else in that moment. Months had passed since their betrothal and he couldn’t have waited a day longer to finally make her his wife. “I love you, Sophie Elizabeth Hiddleston.”, he breathed against her lips and smiled because he loved the sound of her new name so very much. She returned that smile beaming with joy before replying quietly, “I love you, too, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my tumblr page http://w-is-for-writing.tumblr.com to find out more about my stories, my characters, and everything else you might be interested in :)


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